


That Boy is a Monster

by bellacatbee



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Child Abuse, Community: sabriel_mini, Gabriel as The Trickster, M/M, Masturbation, Teenage Winchesters, Underage Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-15
Updated: 2012-10-15
Packaged: 2017-11-16 09:07:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/537786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellacatbee/pseuds/bellacatbee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Winchester drags his sons to a small town to investigate the strange disappearances that have been happening around there for the past few years. Sam finds himself haunted by a candy wrapper and Dean is no help. He’d rather make out with a strange guy at the library then notice Sam’s crisis. Things go from bad to worse when Sam is kidnapped by a cult intent on sacrificing him to their god – Loki.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Boy is a Monster

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Casness who is a wonderful beta. 
> 
> Thanks also to my wonderful artist paula_lirio, her artwork is included in this fic. Be careful as it is NSFW due to shirtless!Sam.
> 
> This story does include mentions of child abuse but nothing is shown, and nothing happens to either Sam or Dean.

 

 

It was so cold. Much colder than it had been the first night Sam had found himself in the woods. That time he’d been wearing clothes though. Now his body was bathed in moonlight and completely nude. Sam would have been ashamed but he was more scared. He couldn’t pull his legs together, couldn’t move his hands to cover himself and the thoughts in his head were sluggish. It didn’t matter that he was naked. It was the least of his problems. He was tied up. He could feel the tug of the rope on his wrists and ankles even though it was numbed.

 

Sam turned his head slightly, trying to see but everything was blurred. There were figures around him, darkly cloaked figures, and they were chanting but Sam couldn’t make out what they were saying.  He didn’t know where he was apart from outside, under a canopy of trees. He couldn’t remember how he’d ended up there. Did his dad and Dean know where he was? Where they coming to get him? Sam really hoped so.

 

The chanting got louder and Sam made himself keep his eyes open, made himself watch them even though it made his head hurt to focus on them. He tried to think, tried to remember how he could have ended up here and why he’d been the one they’d chosen.

**

 

Sam stomped his feet up and down, shivering in the sallow light of the full moon. It should have been a comfort, something to see by in the otherwise dark woods but Sam was cold and tired and tomorrow was a school day. He didn’t want to be walking up and down the edge of a parameter his dad had set, making sure that nothing came past him. He had a gun full of rock salt and a good idea of where Dean was but that was it. Sam had no idea where his dad had gotten to or what they were hunting.

 

He guessed it couldn’t be anything too bad or else his dad would have never taken them along. He and Dean would be stuck in the motel room, watching some crappy game show while Dean tried his hand at fixing something resembling a nutritious meal in the broken down kitchenette. Sam was almost grateful to be outside in the cold. At least he was in the fresh air. He might have only wolfed down half of a sandwich in the back of the Impala, sharing it with Dean because it was all their dad had bought but Sam had still eaten something and it even had some salad in it so he didn’t mind that. Dean had given him the extra slices of tomato from his half.

 

He marched up and down, trying to keep warm and turned his collar up at the fog, which was beginning to creep up on him. It was just the right sort of night for something to go wrong – full moon, fog that slunk through the trees, something wicked about in the woods. At least no one was likely to be out on a night like this. It was easier when there weren’t innocent people involved. Sam hated it when they got killed or when they got startled and misunderstood and thought his dad had done something.

 

He didn’t like having to pack up quickly in the night and move on before they had a chance to say good bye. He knew by now he should be used to it, that he should have learned to accept it the way that Dean did, never really unpacking when they reached a new place or making friends but Sam couldn’t do that. He always hoped that this time it would be different. He always hoped that something would happen – an injury, a woman, a job offer – something that would make his dad stop for a bit and maybe Sam could go to the same school for a couple of years and Dean could let his guard down a bit and get settled.

 

Sam sighed. He knew they couldn’t though. His dad was hunting the thing that killed Sam’s mother. Nothing would stop him. When his dad got hurt he waited it out then went on again. No woman could ever take Mary Winchester’s place in her husband’s heart and the only job his dad was interested in now was hunting. Dean was just the same. He’d swallowed down everything their dad had ever told them about saving people, avenging their mother’s death and just accepted it because that was the kind of person he was. He could remember their mother. Sam couldn’t.

 

He walked back and forth again until something crackled under his foot and Sam bent down. He found a candy wrapper lying amongst the green. It looked so wrong, completely out of place with its garish colors and Sam sighed. He never understood why people littered, especially when they came into the woods to supposedly enjoy the outdoors. They just seemed to spend most of their time spoiling it. He picked up the wrapper and slipped it into his pocket.

 

“Sam!”

 

Sam straightened up, looking around and a second later Dean appeared through the trees, frowning at him.

 

“I’ve been calling you and calling you,” he complained. “Dad wants us back at the car, doesn’t think he’s going to find anything tonight.” He slung his arm around Sam’s shoulder and Sam was too tired to argue about the fact that Dean obviously hadn’t been calling because otherwise Sam would have heard him. He just wanted to get back to the motel and into bed so he didn’t find himself falling asleep in the middle of school.

 

**

 

Sam managed not to fall asleep in class but he did end up with his head pillowed on his arms, trying to catch a quick nap in the library after school. His dad was doing research in the newspaper archives and he had wanted both Sam and Dean close by him. Sam had hung around in the non-fiction section, guessing quite rightly that it would be quieter and Dean had found some girl to flirt with in romance. Sam slept for about twenty minutes which was all he really needed, just a quick nap to recharge before he was up and ready to go again. Sam was used to running on practically empty and still managing to get everything he needed done. He had gotten good at grabbing quick little power naps like these in the back of the car or wherever he got the chance. It was just something he’d learned on the road with his Dad and Dean. If you didn’t sleep when you got the chance, you’d never sleep. He had even learned to find Led Zeppelin a relaxing lullaby on long car rides.

 

Stretching, Sam reached down to grab his school bag and hoisted it up on the table. He dug around till he found his Spanish work book and flipped through it, finding the notes he’d made on his homework. It didn’t seem too difficult. He had to do some research but being in a library made that easy enough. He had to pick a region of Spain and describe it in his own words then translate those words into Spanish. It was an assignment that would take all night but Sam doubted they’d be out of the library before closing time anyway so he reached back in his bag to pull out his English to Spanish dictionary and frowned when a candy wrapper fluttered down from it and onto the table in front of him.

 

For a moment Sam wondered if Dean had been eating candy and stuffing the evidence into his bag rather than throwing it away like a normal person would. Then, picking up the wrapper and turning it over in his fingers, Sam recognized it as the same wrapper he’d picked up the night before out in the forest.

 

“Weird,” he muttered to himself. He could have sworn he’d put that in his jacket pocket.

 

He left the wrapper marking his page in his workbook and stood up, heading to the geography section to find a book about Spain. The second he found the section Sam was struck by two thoughts; one, that it was lucky Dean was so predictable. It might not have been the romance section but he was still making out with someone and Sam had got that right at least. And two, that was very certainly a guy that Dean had pinned up against the bookcase.

 

Sam loitered at the end of the section, wishing that there could be a book just in reach so he didn’t have to disturb his brother. He was certain that neither Dean nor the guy had any idea he was there. Sam guessed a lot of people didn’t come down here very often. He wouldn’t have even bothered if it hadn’t been for needing a book. Dean had his fingers in the guy’s dark hair, clutching at him as if he was trying to give the guy a tonsillectomy with his damn tongue and Sam pretended to be very interested in a near-by book on Zimbabwe instead.

 

He could cough. He could make Dean aware that he was there but then what? Dean would either get all upset, refuse to talk to him and accuse Sam of spying on him or he’d pretend that Sam hadn’t seen anything and try to make Sam pretend that too. It wasn’t as if Sam was unaware that Dean was playing for both teams. He and Dean practically lived in each other’s pockets. Sam would have had to be pretty stupid to believe that some of Dean’s male ‘friends’ that he brought back to the motel after school were just friends. Dean took them into the bed room the same way he took his female friends in there and Sam knew what they did together. He normally just put on the TV extra loud and concentrated on his homework.

 

It was the way it had always worked for them. Dean pretended to be straight and Sam pretended to believe him. Their dad lived vicariously through Dean’s tales of picking up girls and Sam knew that underneath it all Dean was terrified about what their dad would think if he ever found out that Dean occasionally hooked up with guys too. Sam didn’t know what their dad would say. It had never been a subject they’d broached with him. There were a lot of things Sam knew his father’s intimate feelings on – demons, ghouls, the proper care and cleaning of a 1967 Chevy Impala – but homosexuality or any hint of it wasn’t one of them. Sam, sort of, knew that that wasn’t the right word for what Dean was. Dean enjoyed everyone and everything. Sam would have said the right word was greedy but there was an actual term for Dean’s sexuality too.

 

He glanced up at the two boys again. They looked good together. Sam didn’t think about it often. Once or twice Dean had brought home the racy kind of porn magazines that only certain shops sold and that didn’t end up on the top shelf of most newstands and Sam had flipped through those. The guys in them were hot, in a muscular spent too much time in the gym sort of way. Dean seemed to find them a bit boring too, flipping through them then throwing them out in the trash bins at the back of wherever they were staying, confident that if their dad saw them  he’d never assume they came from Dean. Seeing the look of the boy that Dean was so demandingly kissing now Sam guessed he could understand why Dean didn’t care too much for those magazines. The kid looked like a weed. Sam could have taken him in a fight easy and he’d just come through the other side of a growth spurt and was looking taller rather than muscular himself.  

 

The guy in Dean’s arms squirmed, opening his eyes and he was looking right at Sam then. He didn’t look scared or afraid that Sam had caught them. He just kept watching him, unnervingly, while Dean pushed his knees between the guy’s thighs and rocked against him. Sam swallowed down his own little yelp of disgust and slight horror at being caught watching his brother apparently trying to get to second base and dashed off back towards the safe section of the library. On the way he found the section on health and picked up a book on sex and sexuality. Fingers trembling he found the page which described Dean.

 

_Bisexual  - sexually attracted to both men and women._

 

The rest of the page was about health and wearing a condom and never giving blood if you had anal sex with a man, even protected anal sex which Sam thought was pretty stupid. He flipped through the pages guilty then shoved the book back on the nearest shelf to him, which happened to be about fishing. Someone would find that later and probably put two and two together and come up with five about the guy who liked to think about sex and fish at the same time.

 

His Spanish homework was a complete no go. He couldn’t risk going back to the geography section. He didn’t want to get caught by Dean. The guy Dean was with had probably told him now about the strange lanky kid who’d been watching them and Dean had probably sussed that it was Sam and would be on the war path later. Sam just had to play dumb and hopefully Dean would be too embarrassed to bring it up. If Sam acted as if he never saw them then Dean would just convince himself it was someone else. That was how the Winchesters played it. It was better to ignore all uncomfortable and potentially difficult feelings and instead pretend that everything was completely fine. Most of the time Sam hated that but right at this moment, when it came to Dean’s sexuality, he was more than comfortable with it. There was no need to go and poke that hornets’ nest.

 

He shoved his books back in his bag, the candy wrapper getting shoved in there too because Sam was too flustered to remember to throw it away then he laid down again, head in his arms, and tried to picture anything but Dean and the dark haired boy going at it somewhere around Peru.

 

**

 

He woke up to a hand on his shoulder, shaking him awake and he sat up quickly. It was just his dad though, staring down at him worriedly and Sam relaxed. It must be closing time then. Dean was leaning against the table, his hair ruffled, tie undone and his top three shirt buttons undone. Sam felt his stomach start doing flips and he swallowed, turning his attention back to his dad.

 

“All done?” he asked hopefully and his dad nodded.

 

“For tonight at least. They’re kicking us out now. I found some stuff that’s of interest. A lot of people have gone missing,” he said and Sam reached for his school bag, pulling it into his lap and hugging it close. He hated cases like this. There was never a chance that those people would come back alive.

 

“Recently?” Dean asked. His dad shook his head.

 

“No and there’s not a lot about them when they do go, but there’s a pattern. I’m going to dig back a bit further tomorrow, see how long this has been going on for,” he said then cast a glance over Dean’s dishevelled look, whistling low. “I see you had a good evening.”

 

“Yeah,” Dean said, grinning. “You’d have liked her. Blue eyes, black hair, legs up to here. A bit small on top but nice.”

  
Sam rolled his eyes. He wondered how many times Dean had actually been describing a guy when he talked about his dates. At least it kept their dad happy. John was grinning like there was no tomorrow and he patted Dean on the shoulder. It was about all the physical affection he showed him and Dean beamed with pride. Sam sighed softly. It was likely Dean would never accept who he was if their dad kept rewarding him for scoring with girls. Dean caught his eye and for a second there was a fleeting, guilty look there but then it passed and Sam nodded. They didn’t need to talk about it. He’d keep his brother’s secret. Sam knew Dean would do anything to keep their dad happy and this wasn’t really a lie. It was just one of those things Dean did to keep things running smoothly.

 

“Tomorrow I need to look up a book on Spain,” he said, standing up and dragging his backpack over his shoulder. “I’ve got homework.”

 

His dad looked a little perplexed but Dean nodded.

 

“Yeah, tomorrow I’ll probably be in the reference section,” he said gratefully. Sam smiled at him.

 

At least tomorrow there wouldn’t be any chance of the two of them awkwardly running into one and other.

 

**

 

This time Sam was able to retrieve a book on Spain without any difficulty. Dean had obviously stuck to his plan to meet his date in the reference section. Sam wondered if it was the same boy as yesterday or if Dean was with someone new today. He flicked though the book, trying to pick out a region that sounded interesting when a candy wrapper fluttered out from between the book’s pages. Sam picked it up, muttering something about how people shouldn’t be allowed to bring candy into the library when he turned the wrapper over and realized it was the same type as the one he’d found in the woods. On an impulse he checked his bag, tipping the contents out of it and going through all his books. It was a weird hunch but their dad had long ago taught Sam to trust his hunches. If something didn’t seem right then it probably wasn’t. He checked everywhere, even felt inside in case the wrapper had gotten stuck in the liner but it was definitely missing and Sam hadn’t thrown it away and Dean didn’t go through his bag any more. Sam putting a sprung mouse trap in there during one of their prank wars had stopped his brother’s inquisitive fingers and Sam didn’t think Dean was into spring cleaning anyway.

 

All of which added up to just one likelihood – that Sam was being haunted by a phantom candy wrapper.

 

That sounded just a little hysterical and Sam didn’t think either his dad or Dean would understand if he tried to explain that to them. He’d heard of all sorts of things getting possessed by people’s spirits but he’d never heard of it happening with a candy wrapper. He just couldn’t understand why the wrapper kept following him, turning up day after day. Maybe it was some sort of cursed object and it was following Sam because he’d picked it up but that was really unfair because all he’d tried to do was prevent litter in the forest and again who’d ever heard of a cursed candy wrapper? Cursed objects were usually things like rings, something someone would actually want to pick up. There weren’t that many people who’d pick up old litter. Sam didn’t think most monsters were going after neat freaks and eco-warriors. Normally there had to be a pretty good reason for someone to be a target or they were simply unlucky and in the wrong place at the wrong time.

 

Sam turned the wrapper over in his fingers, staring hard at it. He didn’t know how he was going to bring this up but he didn’t think it was something he could keep to himself. Maybe they’d just burn it. That seemed sensible. Sam had a lighter at the bottom of his bag. He could go outside and do that himself. If it was attached to some spirit then that should sort that out.

 

“Excuse me.” There was a polite cough following those words and Sam jumped in his seat, turning quickly, clutching the wrapper guilty in his hands.

 

“I wasn’t eating in the library!” he said defensively, his voice rising up an octave because he didn’t want to be thrown out for something he hadn’t done because he recognized the man as the friendly librarian who’d waved them in that afternoon. “I found it in one of your books.”

 

He held it out, wondering if the man could direct him to the nearest trash can. The librarian adjusted his glasses on the end of his nose and peered closely at the wrapper as if it was the most interesting thing he’d seen in a while. Then he sighed.

 

“Oh dear. Yes, I see,” he muttered, more to himself than to Sam and Sam wondered if he was going to be in a lot of trouble. “I think you’d better come with me,” he said, touching Sam’s arm gently as if to guide him up.

 

 Sam grabbed his bag, standing up. He should have just pushed the wrapper into his pocket and worried about it once he got back to the motel. Now he was going to be thrown out and he’d have to wait out front until Dean and his dad finished for the evening. He followed the librarian back behind the desk, into his office, wondering if he was going to have his photo taken or be barred from the library.

 

Some places were very strict. Admittedly they’d mostly been liquor stores that had found out that Dean’s ID was fake and their dad had been so mad when he’d realized there were some places now with Dean’s photo behind the counter and ‘ _do not serve_ ’ written underneath but Sam had never thought he’d be in that sort of trouble.

 

“Um….” he started, glancing around the office as the librarian busied himself in a filing cabinet. “I really didn’t have any candy with me,” he said, focusing on the man’s degree which was framed on the wall. He was an English graduate. Sam wondered if he’d be able to appeal to him if he tried his hardest. Dean always said he had puppy-dog eyes. If they worked on Dean, then they could probably work on this old guy and he’d only get a slap on the metaphorical wrist.

 

He turned then; ready to implement his plan only to find himself face to face with the librarian. The man smiled at him sadly.

 

“I know,” he said and Sam opened his mouth to ask him what was going on than when suddenly his mouth was covered by a cloth that smelled oddly sweet and slightly rotten. Sam struggled to get it away but the hand clamped over his face was strong and Sam felt dizzy, breathing in the scent of the cloth. He sagged in the man’s arms, unable to resist as his vision swam and his whole body seemed to shut down. He was young but he was strong. He should have been able to take the old man but whatever was on the cloth had been too much.

 

His fingers unclenched and the wrapper, which he’d been holding onto so tightly, fluttered to the floor. Sam stared at it, aware of the colors long after he stopped being aware of anything else. He could only hope that Dean had seen him leaving or that it was closer to closing time then he remembered it being and his dad would come looking for him.

 

Vaguely he got the understanding of other people, of voices and hurried telephone calls but it was all a blur and very soon after that Sam was asleep.

 

**

 

And that, Sam guessed, was how he’d ended up tied naked to a stone slab in the middle of the very same forest he’d first found the candy wrapper in. He was alert now, aware of just what had happened and more angry that he’d been taken out by an elderly librarian than by the fact he wasn’t wearing any clothes. If Dean was to be believed then a lot of the hunts he’d been on had ended up with someone naked at some point. Not having pants wasn’t going to stop Sam from getting out of there and then bashing some heads together to find out what was going on. He could make out a few of the words in the chant now and they didn’t fill him with much hope. He knew the translation of one word off by heart – _sacrifice_.

 

He wiggled some more, trying to slip the ropes from round his wrists or ankles but they were too well tied for him to get out from. His dad had taught him the weak points in most restraints but they hadn’t discussed how to get out of them while naked. Sam normally had something on him or in his backpack. The sad thing, Sam reflected, turning his head and trying to tilt himself so he could gnaw at the bindings on one of his wrists, was that his dad had probably taught Dean how to get out of restraints while naked and Dean had probably already used that knowledge once or twice.

 

The chanting stopped and Sam bit into the rope a little more determinedly. He didn’t think that the sudden silence could signify anything good.

 

“Stop that.” A hand grabbed his jaw, forcing it open and turning Sam’s face away from the ropes.

 

Sam recognized him in the dark as the librarian. His stomach clenched and for a moment Sam thought he was going to be sick but he forced it back down. How would Dean react in this sort of situation? How would his dad? They wouldn’t throw up all over some cult leader’s shoes. They’d be brave. Sam could be brave.

 

“You know I’m a kid, right? I’m fifteen. My name is Sam Winchester.” It sounded like babbling but Sam really didn’t mean it to. He’d read somewhere if you could make your kidnappers identify with you then they’d have a harder time killing you. He didn’t have a lot of time if they’d already got him naked and chained to an altar but he had to find a way to humanise himself in their eyes. “I want to go to college. I have a dad and an older brother, my mum died when I was six months old. If you kill me, I don’t know how my dad’s going to cope.”

 

The man looked at Sam sadly and Sam’s stomach flipped again. Maybe he’d misread the situation completely. Maybe murder wasn’t what they were into. There were people who did much worse things after all, things even demons wouldn’t do. Things that got people marked straight to Hell and who his dad wouldn’t protect. They’d run across a guy once, back in Arizona, being haunted by the ghost of a little girl. When his dad had found out what the guy had done to the girl he’d let the little ghost have her revenge. It wasn’t something Sam liked to think about a lot and for a long time he’d thought his dad had done the wrong thing, that they should have turned the guy into the police and let justice take its course but now he found himself praying for some sort of vengeful spirit.

 

“Please don’t do that to me,” he bit out. He didn’t want to beg but he also didn’t want to lie there on the cold stone and let them think he wanted what they were planning to do to him just because he was too scared to say no.

 

The man sighed. “That’s not what we want,” he said, although his fingers ghosted over Sam’s cheek, feeling where he hadn’t started shaving yet and Sam doubted that was strictly true in the man’s case. If he and Sam were left alone then maybe he would have wanted it or maybe he was just the sort of person who liked to think about it. Sam was caught between struggling now or staying still. He didn’t want to give the man anything he’d use as jerk off material later.

 

“So are you going to kill me then?” Sam asked, sticking his chin out, trying to not show how frightened he was.

 

“No,” the man said. “We’re not going to kill you, but Loki will.”

 

“Loki?” Sam raised an eyebrow. It wasn’t as if he didn’t know that gods existed. His dad had taken out some old lake goddess who’d been drowning teenagers silly enough to go swimming in her pool in the summer warmth. She’d thought they were sacrifices too. Her followers had all deserted her but apparently Loki’s followers were still going strong.

 

“Why me?” he asked. He wondered if this had been what his dad was tracking, this cult of Loki worshippers. It would explain why he was looking into disappearances. Had the librarian noticed? Had he taken Sam as a warning to his dad? If he had then he’d made the wrong choice because Dean and his dad would never stop looking for him. They’d never be scared off.

 

“He chose you,” the man said, his grip on Sam weakening. “He always gives us a sign. He’s very fond of sweets. I knew the moment I saw you with that wrapper that he’d chosen you.”

 

Sam’s brow furrowed as he remembered the candy wrapper he’d thought was haunted. It still didn’t make any sense to him. None of it did and now he was being told that by picking it up he’d marked himself out as the sacrifice of some ancient god with a candy addiction. It wasn’t fair. Why would a god want choose Sam? He got good grades, he didn’t break the law unless he really had to and he loved his dad and brother. He shouldn’t have done anything to put himself on this god’s radar and yet apparently something about him had so offended this god that he’d wanted Sam for a sacrifice.

 

Sam blinked back tears. He wouldn’t cry. Winchesters didn’t cry. They didn’t show fear. They always had a plan.

 

Only Sam didn’t have a plan. He was relying on either his Dad or Dean burst through the trees in the next few minutes, guns blazing because he didn’t know what he was going to do otherwise. He struggled even harder against the ropes, not even caring that they were biting into his skin. Rope burns would heal. Getting eaten alive or whatever the god did to his sacrifices wouldn’t heal.

 

Sam slowly became aware of the silence that was settling over them. It wasn’t like when the chanting had stopped. Now everything had stopped. There were no birds calling, no rustle of leaves, nothing but the sound of Sam’s ragged breathing. It was as if the clearing had slipped out of reality. It existed but not on the same plane as everything else. Sam couldn’t stop the frantic sob that escaped from his throat now. He didn’t see any light at the end of this tunnel. Whatever was coming was coming now and Sam had no idea how to stop it.

 

“Wow, guys, you got me a gift and you unwrapped it too.”

 

The voice was painfully normal. Dripping with sarcasm, but normal. It didn’t sound otherworldly. It didn’t shake the trees or boom with the power of the ages. Sam opened his eyes and focused on the short man sauntering into the clearing. He was sucking on a lollipop. Sam felt vaguely ridiculous. How could this man be a pagan god? Gods were supposed to be scary. The one in the lake had reeds for hair and scales for skin, but this guy looked like he’d just blend in to the crowd. The idea that this guy could have worshippers just didn’t make sense.

 

The elderly librarian had dropped to his knees when Loki entered the clearing but looked up now, eyes shining hopefully.

 

“Yes, we brought him. Just the way you commanded. I knew the moment you left the wrapper that he was your chosen, my Lord,” he said and Loki yawned exaggeratedly.

 

“Yeah, yeah. You read the signs. Good boy.” He strolled over to Sam, running his one hand up Sam’s stomach and over his chest. His eyes, amber eyes that looked strange now that Sam saw them up close, gleamed. “Nice. You’ve been working out, Sam Winchester.”

 

It didn’t surprise Sam that the god knew his name. He wiggled a little, trying to pull away from the touch because he didn’t want his still beating heart ripped out or whatever it was Loki planned to do to him next. It would probably hurt. Sam had always hoped he’d die quietly, of old age or at least unconscious so he couldn’t feel it but most hunters didn’t get that luck. Sam wasn’t even really a hunter, he was just the son of a hunter but apparently he was still going to die a Hunters death.

 

Loki’s mouth stretched into a smile and Sam had the uneasy feeling that the god knew everything he was thinking. He leaned closer, lips grazing Sam’s ear as he whispered, “Don’t worry, kiddo, you’re safe.”

 

Sam furrowed his brow. How could he possibly be safe? He was a sacrifice. It wasn’t as if sacrifices generally lived to a ripe old age. Longevity wasn’t in the job description of a sacrifice. His mind was running away, but Sam could only stare up at the god and wonder what in the world he was talking about because there was no way Sam could ever be safe.  

 

Loki turned away from the stone and his offering and surveyed his followers.

 

“Really, guys, this is too much,” he said, sounding almost touched and then his voice lowered, suddenly menacing and Sam couldn’t stop the shiver it sent through his spine. “But don’t think I don’t know about all the sacrifices you’ve been bringing out here that haven’t been dedicated to me. You spilled blood on my stone without my command.”

 

Sam’s brow furrowed, remembering what his dad had said about missing people. He’d said there were a lot of them.

 

“My lord….” The librarian started but Loki held up his hand.

 

“Shut it. Or do you want me to tell your fellow followers about your private reading sessions in the backroom? I’m your God. You think I don’t know everything you do? You think I’m only here when you summon me? I can see you and I can judge you. They’re kids! Like this one’s just a kid!” He gestured back to Sam, glowering. “You think I want to kill kids? I was testing you to see how far you’d fallen and believe me, you’ve fallen.”

 

The blood had drained from the librarians face and he stammered. Heads were turning now, people gasping and Sam wondered how they couldn’t have guessed but apparently they were blind to what their leader had been doing. Idly he wondered how many of them had kids, how many of them had trusted the librarian and left their children alone with him.

 

“And then you started getting people out of the way, didn’t you? Using this group to commit your little acts of murder and telling them that it was my idea. I passed judgement on the ones I chose. They were evil and when I killed them it was for the right reasons. You helped me and I rewarded you, all of you, but you got greedy.”

 

Sam turned his head, listening intently because if he did get out, he was going to tell his dad everything Loki had said. He was going to make sure that they hunted Loki down because even if he was helping now, even if he might be about to protect Sam, he’d still picked people out to murder in the past. It didn’t matter that the people he’d apparently picked had been bad. He seriously doubted that Loki could fairly judge who was a good person or not.

 

“So yeah, tonight there’s gonna be a sacrifice but it’s not gonna be the boy,” Loki said, spreading his arms wide and a moment later, between the second it took for Sam to blink and refocus, the man kneeling at his feet had burst into flames.

 

 

He screamed, dropping to the ground and rolling back and forth but the flames didn’t go out. In fact they spread over his body. The other follows jumped to their feet, stepping away, none of them wanting to get too close to the man. Loki watched with satisfaction and Sam turned his head away but the screaming didn’t stop. He had to endure it until the man couldn’t scream any more.

 

Sam turned his head back in time to see Loki kick the blackened body, smiling with satisfaction as if it was a job well done. He spread out his arms then and Sam saw the shudder that ran through collective group. They huddle together, wondering what would happen next probably, wondering if Loki was going to kill them and Sam didn’t know if he would. Loki spread his hands wide again and Sam waited for more screams, for more fire but there was nothing.

 

“Now, don’t let it be said that I’m not merciful. I’m letting the rest of you go for good behavior,” he said, grinning. “But this is the last night. No more sacrifices, no more worship and if you step out of line again, I’ll kill you like I killed him.”

 

There was a murmur, people not really certain of what they were hearing or if they could trust it and then the sound of running feet as they decided to take their chance and get the hell out of there.

 

Loki laughed, shaking his head, doubling over to slap his knee as if this whole experience has been the most fun he’s had in eons and Sam braced himself against the cold stone, trying to lift himself up in just the right way to snap the ropes. They might be old. They might have been used a couple of times over if the pagans really have been making sacrifices they shouldn’t have been and Sam might get lucky and find a weak spot.  He didn’t want to stay there with Loki even if Loki had just saved him. He’d also killed a man. A nasty man. A pedophile and murderer but that didn’t mean that Loki was the good guy here. Before his pagans started striking out on their own he’d been happy picking victims for them and he had picked Sam.

 

Sam struggled a little harder and felt the rope strain but it didn’t give. He could feel sweat beading on his forehead, both from the strain and fear.  Loki seemed to remember him then, catching Sam’s movements out of the corner of his eye and he turned, snapped his fingers together.

 

Sam sat up, rubbing at his sore wrists. The ropes were gone. They’d vanished completely.

 

He looked at Loki, one eyebrow raised in confusion as Loki sauntered across to him.

 

“You were just the bait, kiddo,” he said, eyes raking up and down Sam’s body and Sam wrapped his arms around himself, suddenly very much aware that he was still naked. “I knew he wouldn’t be able to resist and if for some reason I was late then I knew I could count on your dad and brother to do my dirty work for me.”

 

“My dad is going to kill you.” Maybe it wasn’t the smartest thing Sam had ever said but he couldn’t help it. He didn’t like the fact that he’d been used as part of a trap by some sort of blood drenched pagan god.

 

Loki laughed.

 

“He can try, but he won’t catch me. Besides, those disappearances are going to stop now. I made sure of it.” He stepped closer, eye to eye with Sam and Sam wondered why a god would choose to be as short as a teenage boy, even a teenage boy who’d recently gone through a growth spurt and was suddenly a bit gangly and tall but then Loki’s arms slid around his neck and Sam almost forgot how to breath.

 

“You should say thank you,” Loki purred. “I did rescue you after all.”

 

“Thank you,” Sam said with a little gulp, trying to swallow down the fire that was suddenly racing through his veins. This was Dean’s territory, not Sam’s, although Sam doubted that even Dean had been hit on by a pagan god. _Yet_.

 

Loki leaned forward, closing the few centimeters of space between them and brushed his lips against Sam’s. It was such a soft kiss, hardly even there, like the soft touch of a feather and Sam found himself leaning forward, trying desperately to catch Loki’s mouth with his own and get a proper kiss from him. He felt Loki chuckle, his breath hot against Sam’s lips and then they were kissing the way Sam wanted them to be, Loki practically in his lap and Sam with his fingers tangled in Loki’s hair. He bit, nipped and Loki groaned.

 

This was everything Sam wasn’t. Sam didn’t make sudden, stupid decisions based on his hormones. Sam didn’t make out with people who were more foe than friend. He certainly didn’t make out with supernatural creatures but Loki had saved his life. He might have been the one to put him in danger in the first place but Sam didn’t care about that technicality at the moment. He kissed Loki the way he’d seen Dean kiss the boy in the library, all tongue and teeth and desperation.

 

For one moment Sam wasn’t thinking. He was just feeling and everything he felt told him this was the right thing to do.

 

 

“Sam!”

 

The sound of Dean’s voice was a sudden, unwelcome interruption and Sam pulled away from Loki hopelessly, knowing he’d have to give him up now. Loki turned his head, glancing into the woods.

 

“Shoot. I thought we’d have more time. Guess I’ll have to love you and leave you, Sam,” he said, leaning in to steal one more kiss. He stepped back, winking at Sam and then he clicked his fingers.

 

In an instant he was gone and everything seemed to rush back.

 

There was the stench of burning flesh in the air, Sam’s wrists hurt like hell and he was pretty sure they might be bleeding. There were birds twittering angrily in the branches above him, disturbed. A second later Dean burst through the bushes, their dad right behind him. Dean practically threw his gun on the ground, ignoring John’s yelp that that wasn’t proper gun safety and Dean should know better, and then Sam was getting hugged.

 

It was good to know Dean had worried about him but Sam still found himself squirming away uncomfortably. He didn’t want his brother hugging him when a moment before he’d had Loki’s warm body, stupidly warm and welcoming body, pressed up against his. He was a teenage boy, he couldn’t help the reaction he’d had to that and he really didn’t want Dean to think Sam was _that_ happy to see him.

 

He’d been living in and out of one room motels with both his dad and Dean for as long as he could remember so the fact that he was naked in front of them didn’t bother him too much. He’d had more eyefuls of Dean than he was strictly happy with but even if they’d all seen each other in various states of undress, it didn’t mean that he wanted them to see him with a hard-on.

 

“Jesus, what did you do Sammy? Did you kill someone?” John asked, his voice somewhere between fear and awe. Sam had never heard his dad sound like that and it scared him a little.

 

He didn’t know how to begin to explain what had happened. How Loki had been there, how he’d saved Sam and part of Sam didn’t want to tell his dad about the Trickster god because John would only want to hunt him down but he couldn’t have his dad thinking that Sam had killed the guy who was now just a smouldering body on the floor.

 

“It…there was a god, and he killed him! They were murdering people!” Sam knew that wasn’t the whole of the story and it probably didn’t make any sense to either his dad or Dean. He clung to Dean, a shiver running through him as his body cooled down, forgetting the warmth of Loki. Dean sighed, taking off his jacket and draped it around Sam’s shoulders.

 

“Looks like they didn’t hurt you too bad, Sammy?” he said, voice rising slightly at the end, waiting for Sam to tell him that everything was okay, that there weren’t marks Dean couldn’t see.

 

Sam swallowed, drawing Dean’s jacket a little tighter around him. It smelt like his brother – safe and comforting. The scent of a home that they didn’t have but that was carried around with Dean.

 

“I’m fine, Dean. The god, Loki, he saved me.”

 

 

Dean snorted at that but he didn’t say anything else. Sam doubted that his brother suspected anything. Sam had been able to squirm away successfully until his hard-on realized that nothing good was going to happen and wilted. He probably looked a bit flushed, his lips bitten but for all Dean knew Sam had just been straining against the ropes and biting his lip from frustration.

 

“We should bury the body. Dean, get the shovels,” John said decisively. Dean looked torn, obviously not wanting to leave Sam’s side but not wanting to disobey an order. Sam gave him a little shove, reminding him to move and a second later Dean had taken off, back into the bushes, following the path back to the Impala.

 

John ran a hand through his hair, sighing and came to sit next to Sam on the altar.

 

“Right now, Sam. Tell me this story about Loki again.”

 

**

Sam wished he had his clothes with him. He wished his kidnappers had had the presence of mind to leave his underwear, shoes and jeans in a nice, neat heap near their sacrificial stone. He realised that they’d probably dumped his clothes somewhere else to divert suspicion from themselves or burned them. He really wished they hadn’t. Walking back though the forest, he felt everything under foot. He felt every rotten twig, every soft mossy bit and every slightly wet and squishy bit that he didn’t really want to think about. Not after they’d dug under the alter and found the bodies of the cults previous victims hidden there. He only had Dean’s jacket for protection against the wilderness and he didn’t think either Dean or his dad were going to offer to give up their own shoes to him.

 

The walk to the car seemed to take forever and Sam was never as glad to see the Impala as he was when he reached it then. He just wanted to get back to the motel room, take a shower and try to forget the whole evening. 

 

He slipped Dean’s jacket from round his shoulders, opening the back door and laying it carefully on the seat when Dean caught up with him. Dean raised an eyebrow and then shook his head, reaching past Sam to grab his jacket quickly.

 

“No way is your naked ass going anywhere near my jacket,” he said, smoothing his hands over the jacket as if somehow Sam might have got something unspeakable on it and Sam felt the flush that crept up his neck, hot and angry, at Dean’s actions. He hadn’t been hard since the walk back through the woods. He hadn’t even meant to be hard in the first place. He couldn’t control his hormones and what his body decided was suddenly attractive, like Pagan gods who should have been scary but ended up being sexy instead.

 

“You are such a jerk,” he hissed. Dean laughed, climbing into the front passenger seat and Sam scrambled into the back as quickly as he could. A moment later their dad made it out of the woods and into the clearing where the Impala was parked. Sam knew better than to make a fuss about Dean taking back his jacket in front of his dad. His dad didn’t want to deal with stupid squabbles between his sons.

 

John marched around the car, his footsteps heavy outside and Sam wished he had something to cover his nudity because he suddenly felt more vulnerable and exposed then he had under the eyes of Loki’s cult. Hadn’t Sam just proved he was weak? Dean would never have ended up kidnapped and naked on a stone in the woods. It was always Sam who ended up in danger, always Sam who needed saving. He sank as low into the seat as he could, drawing his legs together and cupping himself with his hands, trying to make himself as small as possible.

 

John wrenched his door open, settled into the car and turned the radio on. Rock music blared from the tape player and Sam shifted uncomfortably as his dad turned the keys in the ignition and the rumble of the engine went right through him.  He’d never realized before how powerful the car was, or how much his clothes protected him from.

 

The dive back to the motel was slower than he would have liked, the air in the car hotter and Sam found himself squirming, the leather seats of the car not comfortable on his bare skin. The more he squirmed, the more his dad caught his eye in the rear view mirror and gave Sam a look that pretty much told him to stop it, but Sam couldn’t. Sam found himself sweating every time his dad’s eyes were on him, a nasty involuntary reaction. He could feel the clammy, stickiness of it between his thighs and down his back, heightened by how nervous he was but he couldn’t stop himself.  By the time they reached the motel he was stuck to the leather seat, skin fused by sweat and peeling himself out of the car stung like a bitch.

 

Dean laughed at him, the jerk, but he unlocked the motel room door and Sam sprinted past him, hardly even feeling the gravel of the motel car park on his feet, desperate to get inside the room before anyone saw him. That would be the last nail in the coffin of Sam’s pride, if one of their neighbors in the dingy motel happened to be peeking through their curtains and managed to catch an eyeful of him. Dean was still laughing as he followed him inside.

 

Sam hunted through his bag, finding underwear and a t-shirt. He threw them on quickly, glaring at Dean which only made Dean laugh harder.

 

Their dad followed them inside slowly but Sam felt the atmosphere change the second he stepped into their room. He shut the door hard, deliberately, and Dean stopped laughing. 

 

They could both tell that something was wrong. The look on their dad’s face was thunderous and Sam knew it had to be him who was in for it this time.

 

Sam snapped up ramrod straight. “Dad,” he started hurriedly, wanting to get his excuses out before his dad started. “I’m really sorry, I know I shouldn’t have gone….”

 

“Shut up, Sam. I’m not angry at you, I’m angry at Dean.”

 

“Me?” Dean yelped.

 

“Dean?” Sam echoed, shooting a worried look across the room at his older brother. Dean hadn’t done anything wrong. He’d stayed in the library like he was supposed to. He wasn’t the one who’d slipped away, who’d fallen for a ruse that was so painfully obvious now Sam looked back at it that he was almost ashamed of himself. Dean had just been waiting where dad had put him, like the good boy he was. Sam was the one who’d wandered straight into a near death experience. Their dad should be angry with him if he was angry with anyone. “Dean didn’t do anything!”

 

“I know Dean didn’t do anything,” John thundered. He hadn’t raised his hand yet but he didn’t have to. Both his boys shrank back. “You could have been killed, Sam! And all because Dean thought it was more important to make out with some random girl rather than watch his brother.”

 

Sam glanced at his brother, saw Dean wince as if the accusation was a physical blow and Sam bristled at the unfairness of it all. Only the other day, John had been congratulating Dean for the self-same thing. What was Dean supposed to do? Everything had been fine before. It wasn’t Dean’s fault. He was just doing the things he always did, it was Sam who’d been the one in trouble.

 

“You weren’t watching me either!” Sam shouted, unable to hold it back because it wasn’t right that Dean should bear the brunt of their father’s anger when John had been the one who’d left them alone.  He shouldn’t have to take the blame because John felt guilty now. “And I’m not a little kid! I’m fifteen.”

 

“I left Dean in charge of you. I told Dean to watch you and he didn’t!”

 

“I was the one who walked off and didn’t tell Dean where I was going!“

 

“Dean has one job, Sammy, and that’s to look after you. He failed.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Dean mumbled. Sam had almost forgotten he was even in the room with them. Even though the fight was about Dean, about what he had and hadn’t done, they’d been acting as if he wasn’t even there. He turned to look at his brother, shaking his head because Dean had nothing to apologize for but Dean wasn’t looking at him. His head was bowed, his shoulders shaking and it was a punch in the gut to Sam to realize that Dean was trying to keep himself from crying.

 

“Don’t apologize to me, apologize to Sam. He’s the one you nearly got killed!” John snapped.

 

Sam saw Dean go rigid, shoulders tensing. Dean wouldn’t allow himself to cry, not in front of their father and certainly not in front of Sam. Watching him struggle to try and please their father all the time hurt Sam. Sam had stopped trying years ago, once he grew out of the childish desire to always be at his dad’s side, but Dean had never stopped trying and John seemed to just take it for granted that Dean would always be there to push around. The worst thing was that Sam sort of knew Dean would always be there. Dean would never want to get away like Sam was already planning.

 

“Don’t…” he whispered, not wanting to hear it, not wanting Dean to be so thoroughly humiliated. He wanted to go back to laughing, to Dean teasing him. That had made everything that had happened in the woods seem years ago and a very long way away. Now everything was too real and Sam just wanted to clap his hands over his ears and scream and scream until he couldn’t hear his father any more, until he couldn’t remember the sight of a man burning to death, until he could just block all of it out.

 

Dean half turned towards him, not meeting Sam’s eye and Sam wanted to shout at him to stop but his throat was painfully constricted and now it was Sam who was trying to fight back the tears.

 

“I’m sorry, Sammy,” Dean’s voice broke a little and Sam shook his head, face crumpling. It was so unfair, all of it was so unfair. He suddenly, painfully, wished he could find Loki. Loki knew about justice. Sam didn’t want his dad hurt but he wanted him punished. He wanted him to understand that it wasn’t right what he was doing.  Loki could show him that, could make him understand how it felt to be powerless and always trying to please someone who couldn’t ever be pleased. Loki could….

 

But even as Sam thought it, he dismissed it. He’d seen Loki’s brand of justice. Loki didn’t know how to stop or hold himself back. He was an untamed thing and Sam knew better than to mess with the Supernatural. He also knew that his dad did know how it felt to be helpless. He was chasing the demon that had killed Sam’s mom and he was no closer now then he’d been when she died. His dad knew. In a way it made it worse that he could know and still act the way he did. It was like kids at school who got bullied so they bullied those smaller and weaker than them to give them some feeling of control, only it was worse because they weren’t all kids on the playground and no one was going to come along to give them a time out. It was worse because Sam and Dean were his children and their dad should have protected them, not taken it out on them.

 

John nodded, apparently satisfied. He crossed to the motel bed that he’d taken as his, digging underneath it, pulling out his duffle bag. Sam knew there were weapons in the car, that his father was getting supplies that he didn’t usually carry but right at that moment Sam couldn’t find it in himself to feel worried about what his dad was going off after. He wanted his dad to hurry up and leave, so it could just be him and Dean alone.

 

“I’m going back after that god,” John said gruffly, shouldering his duffle.

 

“Do you want me to come with you dad?” Dean offered, not looking up from the carpeted floor.

 

“No, I want you to stay here and watch Sammy, like I told you,” John growled. Dean didn’t flinch this time. He stood like a soldier, his eyes glazed as the abuse washed over him but that didn’t mean that he wasn’t feeling it. Sam could tell. Even as Dean tried to keep himself still, Sam could see his fingers twitching at his sides. He wished that Dean would just shout back for once, that Dean wouldn’t just let it continue. Maybe it would get worse or maybe it would get better but at least Dean would have stood up for himself.

 

It seemed though that Dean’s passivity was just what John wanted. He nodded, turning on his heel and stalked out of the room, slamming the door behind him. A few seconds later Sam heard the roar of the Impala's engine and then there was silence in the motel room, save for Dean’s labored breathing.

 

“Dean….” Sam started but his brother looked up, glaring at him, his cheeks red and his eyes filled with tears but he blinked them away angrily.

 

“Don’t start, Sam. I don’t want to talk about it!”

 

“Dean,” Sam tried again.

 

“Shut up, Sam. I’m going to watch TV. Just shut up, okay?” Dean threw himself down on his bed, grabbing the remote and the television burst into life.

 

Sam stepped towards the bed, wanting to say something to Dean, wanting to make it better but Dean shuffled so he was on his side, facing away from his little brother and turned the TV up to a deafening volume.  In the next room someone banged on the wall and Dean turned the volume up again.

 

Sam stood there for a moment, brimming over with anger. He’d been the one trying to defend Dean and he never got any thanks for it. Dean always sided with their dad, even when he shouldn’t.

 

“Fine,” he shouted, trying to make himself heard over the TV. “Fine! I’m going to take a shower, you just stay out here and be a jerk!”

 

He stormed into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him and locking it. There was more banging from their next door neighbor but Sam ignored it. He shrugged off his clothes, throwing them on the floor without a care and stepped into the shower, turning on the taps to full blast. He was going to use up all the water and damn Dean and their dad.

 

**

Sam leaned against the shower wall, letting the water cascade down his body. It warmed him and washed away the grime of the day. Sam knew eventually he’d forget the fear that had sat like lead in his stomach when he’d woken up tied to that altar. Eventually he’d forget the smell of the man burning, forget his screams. He scrubbed hard at his skin with a bar of soap, a little harder than he needed to but the scent of burning flesh was stuck in his pores. Eventually he’d forget that under the altar they’d found the decomposing missing people his dad had been searching for.

 

Sam dug his nails into the soap, not caring that he was getting it stuck under his nails. He wanted to hurt something and the soap couldn’t complain about it. Anything Sam did to the soap would eventually wash away, not like the things his dad said.

 

Eventually tonight would just become like every other fight his dad had had with Dean. Something Sam remembered and judged him for. It would blend in with all the other times and Sam would forget the details of it but he would never forget the way he felt or the angry, ashamed look in Dean’s eyes.  Of all the things he could forget about tonight, that was what Sam wanted to forget the most.

 

Sam had worked up a good lather now and he set the soap down, running his hands up and down over his chest. Earlier that night it had been someone else’s hands that had touched him. Eventually, Sam guessed, he would forget about Loki too.

 

He would forget about the way Loki had kissed him. He would forget about how he had felt warm and real and how he had smirked at Sam in a way that made Sam want to punch him. It was as if he was laughing at Sam, at some great cosmic joke Sam didn’t understand. Punching Loki would have been pleasurable but kissing the smirk off his lips would have been even better. Sam didn’t even care that he was using up all the hot water and Dean would yell at him later. His hand skimmed lower, fingers locking around his half-hard cock and Sam stroked himself as he thought about Loki and how he’d find a way to gain the upper hand over the god.

 

Kissing Loki, holding him, felt like a dream now. It was the farthest Sam had ever gotten with anyone and it wasn’t as if he could ever tell anyone about it. Sam didn’t know what it had meant. Loki was a supernatural creature but he’d been in a man’s body and now Sam was jerking off under the shower spray, remembering their kiss. Sam didn’t really care what it made him. He could have an existentialist crisis about his sexuality later. Right now he just wanted to focus on Loki and what he would have done to him if they hadn’t been interrupted. 

 

Sam moved his hand slowly, teasingly, the way he would if he’d had his hand on Loki’s cock instead of his own. He knew instinctively that Loki would want to go fast, that his idea of sex was rough and tumble and Sam thought he could enjoy that but he’d also enjoy seeing Loki laid out on his own altar, begging for Sam to move his hand faster, to do more. Sam smiled, licking the droplets of water off his lips. Maybe he’d take pity on the Trickster god but maybe he wouldn’t.

 

He let go of his cock, fighting back his own moan at that because he wanted to touch but he didn’t want to come too soon, and cupped his balls, tugging them gently. His cock jerked and Sam bit back another, louder moan. Dean was in the other room, watching TV. He’d be able to hear Sam if Sam didn’t keep it down and he couldn’t take Dean’s teasing and knowing looks.  Loki would probably be noisy. He’d probably be loud on purpose, taunting Sam with the idea that they could get caught and Sam gripped his cock with his other hand, planting his feet firm as he could on the slippery floor, fisting himself brutally now.

 

Sam would bite Loki, snarl at him, remind him to keep quiet and Loki would enjoy every moment of it. Sam pressed his thumb to that little patch of skin behind his balls, between them and his hole and for a second he saw black behind his eyes, everything but the flush of pleasure through his body forgotten and then he was coming.  Sam sagged back against the wall, giving his balls another squeeze as he milked himself dry. Aftershocks ran through him, wringing soft little moans from his throat and Sam was so glad for showers. The water washed away any evidence of what he had done and the sound of it splashing in the shower covered up most of his moans.

 

He stood there, staring down at the plug hole, wondering just what had come over him and hoped he might get the chance to see his Trickster again. Maybe not for a while, especially not while his dad was still out in the woods right now looking for Loki to run him through, but one day. Maybe when Sam was a little older, a little more experienced and he could put his thoughts into practice.

 

Sam turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, reaching to grab his towel from the rail. As he did so something fluttered down on to the floor. Sam wrapped himself up quickly and bent to pick it up.

 

It was a candy wrapper.

 

Faintly Sam thought he could hear laughter.


End file.
